Page 60 of Goal Line
“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I say quickly, scooting away from him.
And with that, I rush off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
He didn’t do anything wrong,I tell myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. He was trying to comfort me, and when I leaned into that kiss, indicating I wanted more to happen, he gladly agreed.
So why am I upset about it? It makes no sense. I’m making no sense. But despite knowing that, I can’t stop the tears. I hop in the shower, cursing the pregnancy hormones that made me want to jump my husband last night and have me crying over him this morning.
This isn’t me. I’m calm and steady, the opposite of overly emotional. If anything, people have told me I’m not emotional enough. I don’t know if I can no longer hide my feelings for Luke because I’m pregnant, or if it’s because I’m sensing that he might feel the same way. More importantly, I don’t trust myself to know the difference.
“That looks great,” Christopher tells Luke as he reaches over to return Luke’s phone. “I really appreciate you setting me up with a furnished apartment in Boston.”
“Anything for Eva,” Luke says lightly, before glancing over from where he sits beside me on the couch.
I don’t miss what he’s really telling my skating partner:I’m doing this for her, not for you. And while I appreciate hishelp in placing Christopher in one of the corporate apartments owned by Hartmann Enterprises, he’s only doing it to make our marriage work better. I don’t know why, but I keep hoping that he’ll eventually come around to Christopher.
At least he hasn’t called him Christopher Fucking Steele. Yet.
Honestly, everything would be easier if Luke and Christopher could get along. It was fine when Luke lived in Canada and only saw Christopher a couple of times a year. Now that we’ll all be in Boston together, I can see things being a little more difficult.
Maybe I can start by talking to Christopher, whose hostility toward Luke might be easier to tamp down? Christopher isn’t the kind of person to be emotional about things—at least off the ice. If anything, he comes off as cool and indifferent, like nothing’s ever a big deal to him. And if I tell him to cut this shit out, he probably will. Luke, on the other hand, has some deep-seated animosity toward Christopher that I’ve yet to figure out. Whenever I bring it up, he deflects.
Christopher chuckles quietly before he walks into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator door, and grabs the orange juice off the shelf. He then grabs a glass from the lower cabinet and sets it on the counter.
Next to me, Luke’s eyes narrow as he watches Christopher pour juice into the glass. The glass that was sitting next to the coffee mug Luke struggled to find earlier. And I can sense Luke’s frustration over Christopher’s familiarity with my apartment—as if it represents a similar familiarity with me.
But I’m not going to feel bad about that. We’re friendswho spend a great deal of time together. In fact, he’s the one who helped me install those roll-out shelves.
Then again, with the number of times Luke had to listen to me talk about Christopher over this past season, the way I was always hemming and hawing over whether or not he had feelings for me...maybe he’s a little jealous.
My friendship with Luke has always been the most important thing to me, but I could see how he might think I was putting Christopher before him. Which makes sense because I never shared the insight I finally came to concerning Christopher: the only reason I was desperate for him to see me as more than a friend was because I knew Luke never would.
I just wantedsomeoneto choose me.
“Think we should get going?” Christopher calls out from the kitchen.
Thankful for the interruption of my thoughts, I spring off the couch. “Yeah, we’d better go.” I glance down at Luke. “Do you want to come?”
His eyes flick over toward Christopher and he says, “Nah, it’s probably better if I stay here and keep packing. Plus, I have to drop your car off at the dealership.”
My little two-door convertible would be completely impractical in Boston winters, and unsafe with a baby in the back seat, so Luke arranged to sell it to a used car dealership.
“All right. Well, thank you for that,” I say as I reach out, ruffle the hair on the top of his head, and turn to leave, thankful for the opportunity for some space.
On the short drive to the rink where we’ll be taking pictures for the brand of figure skates that sponsors ourteam, Christopher is practically gloating about how jealous Luke is with him around.
“Are you intentionally trying to antagonize him?” I ask.
“No, but it amuses the shit out of me to see how jealous he gets. Eva, you can’t seriously believe that he sees you only as a friend? He’s so fucking possessive of you...Even the way he looks at you screamsI want her.”
“Pfft.” I let a hiss of air escape my lips, signaling that his observation is ridiculous. But is it?
I want to push back, to remind him that we’ve been friends, and only friends, our whole lives. But even I realize that friends don’t do what we did last night on that air mattress.
But friends with benefits do,I remind myself. And I guess that’s the weird new phase we’ve let our relationship stray into?
“It’d be a lot easier for me if you guys could get along. He’s myhusband, Christopher. Can you please stop trying to get under his skin?”
“I’m just helping him recognize the wonderful person he has right in front of him.” He says it with such confidence that I don’t question his meaning, just his understanding of the situation.
